


You Don't Know What You Don't Know

by writinginthedust



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 17:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15734538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writinginthedust/pseuds/writinginthedust
Summary: A Nessian semi-fluff piece. Nesta has returned from the Mortal Realm and Cassian is acting rather strangely.





	You Don't Know What You Don't Know

There had been a strange look on Cassian’s face for days now and it was a look which Nesta couldn’t place. It seemed only to appear when he looked at her and appeared most often when it was obvious Cassian thought she wasn’t looking back.

It had begun after her return from the Mortal Realm. They had not rushed to cling to each other. They weren’t Feyre and Rhys, for Cauldron’s sake. Unlike the High Lord and Lady both Nesta and Cassian could control themselves in public. Instead, Nesta had arrived back to the House of Wind where blue-grey eyes met hazel ones across the hall and where careful, measured strides were taken by both to meet in the middle.

They were within scenting distance when she saw it on his face. The look. _That_ look. The one that would constantly end up making an appearance.

Nesta had been reminded of a horse that she once saw as a child. It had been a beautiful creature; sturdy muscle, deep brown smooth skin and a flowing black mane. She passed the field it was kept in every day and watched as it galloped at full speed to freedom, its hooves pounding on the ground. One day it came too close to a snake, curled and hidden in the grass and Nesta had watched as the horse reared back when the snake made itself known.

That was what Cassian had done. Reared back as though she was a viper in the long grass. His nostrils had flared and his eyes had widened, the pupils of his eyes growing fat until the hazel had all but disappeared. His head jerked back and he stopped mid-stride, nostrils twitching until Nesta rolled her eyes and met the distance.

“You’ll make me do it all then you arrogant bat,” she had said but the statement was murmured in a voice that only ever softened for him and Elain. Her arms had wrapped themselves as far as she could reach around his large body and she dipped her head into the crook of his neck. His scent was wild and earthy and she breathed it deep into her lungs.

Cassian had stood rigid. The rapid beat of his heart thrashed against her ribs. “Wh – what? I won’t make you do it all,” and the solid and imposing voice of the General Commander of the Night Court’s armies had croaked at his words.

Nesta lifted her head from his shoulder and peered up at him, “Well you didn’t exactly meet me half-way.”

It was the subtlest of shifts in his body but she felt it anyway. The slight relaxing of his muscles, the exhale of breath, the untwisting of a frown. “Of course,” he said, “that’s what you meant.”

“What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “Nothing at all.”

****

In the dining hall they sat opposite each other, as was usual. Nesta could see Cassian’s features relax into his usual lazy grin, his eyes flashing dangerously with mischief which only happened when he spoke to Mor, who sat to his left. When Elain asked him a question about training he turned to her on his other side, his eyes softening and his voice gentle. He looked at Elain as a protective older brother would look at a sister and some part of Nesta would always warm at the strength of affection she felt towards him at those moments.

Over time Nesta had noticed that he had an expression for all his friends; one for Rhys, one for Feyre, one for Azriel. Even one for Amren. These were never overt. There was a subtle shift of his mouth, a quirk of his eyebrow, a clench or unclenching of his jaw. It showed mainly in his eyes; affection, irritation. Love.

He wore so many for her. Many that she had never seen him display towards another person. Some were expressions that he would only show her in private, the ones where his eyes burned through her clothing to feast upon her body. Those were the ones that contained the heat. Cassian’s looks to Nesta always seemed designed to thaw and it was those genuine and revered glances that melted the shards around her chest.

Nesta pushed the food around her plate with her fork. She thought she had seen every look his face could make but she recalled earlier and tried to place what it was. When she glanced up she saw that Cassian had stopped talking to Elain and was watching her. No sooner had she looked at him head on, he turned his head away as though he hadn’t been staring at her with a strange intensity.

_Not,_ she thought, _subtle enough._

****

Nesta was used to Cassian staring but not like this. Not with this new, bizarre quality.  Nesta had always felt that Cassian took in all of her, a skill from his role as Commander. _Observe the opponent,_ he had once said and she had raised an eyebrow.

_Am I your foe?_ She had questioned. _Am I your opponent?_

But he had silenced her with sarcastic barbs which had later turned into kisses and later still so much more.

So yes, the staring she was used to. The scrutiny of her features she was used to, but with this new expression? No. With the following around? No. That was new and extremely unwelcome.

She had been reading in the library and he had hovered around her with his wings expanded out to almost full width, blocking her light. Nesta had shifted, trying to see her page when Cassian was over her in an instant checking that her chair was comfortable.

In bed he became obsessed with checking that she was fine with the temperature in the room.

“Not too hot?” he had asked her. “Or too cold? Let me get another blanket. You look freezing.” Then a quilted cover or two would find their way wrapped over her shoulders or draped across her lap. And all the time he wore that _look._

****

“He’s suddenly become completely insufferable,” she said to Elain. “I need him to go to the training camps or _something_.”

They were walking around Elain’s small garden, arm in arm, their skirts ruffling slightly in the breeze. Nesta needed air. And space. Everywhere she went, Cassian wasn’t too far behind. Something niggled in the back in her mind, a suspicion.

“I wonder,” she went on, “if he isn’t suffering from a guilty conscience.”

Elain had been trailing her free hand among the flowers, her long pale fingers brushing against the green stems as she listened and nodded along but at that statement she turned her head towards Nesta, her face pinched together with confusion.

“Oh!” she exclaimed and stopped, turning Nesta fully towards her. Elain’s gentle brown eyes searched Nesta’s face, the confusion melting into a smile. “Oh,” she said again, quietly this time, “I see.”

“See what?”

Elain’s lips pulled up into an even greater smile, one filled with strong affection.

“I love you,” Elain said and Nesta’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at such a random statement. Her sister hadn’t said it with any shyness, it was a statement, short but true. “Cassian is not suffering from a guilty conscience, that I can assure you.”

Nesta looked at her baby sister, the one that she would have set worlds on fire for and knew that she would never lie to her. “But why is he behaving like this?”

Elain let out a long sigh, and then turned, gently tugging Nesta with her as they carried on walking down the path. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

She opened her mouth, about to ask another question but when they made a turn on the path and passed the long-stalked sunflowers she saw Cassian immediately up ahead lingering amongst the hydrangeas, trying and quite obviously failing to look inconspicuous.

“Oh,” Elain sing-songed, “what an unusual looking flower.”

Nesta’s face fixed into a scowl. “Go away,” she scolded, “I’m trying to spend time with my sister.”

Cassian eventually skulked off but not before depositing a shawl around her shoulder. “Just in case you get cold,” he had murmured.

The sisters watched him march off, his red syphons glowing amongst the pastel petals that surrounded them. Nesta turned to Elain, gesturing with her hand at the Illyrian’s retreating back. Elain bent down and picked a fallen blossom from the ground, pressing it to her nose. It looked to Nesta that Elain was trying to suppress a giggle.

“Oh, Nesta,” Elain breathed and then she reached out and tucked the blossom, a light shade of yellow and cream, behind Nesta’s ear. “It’s not just flowers that bloom.”

With a peck on her cheek and another smile, Elain tugged Nesta up the path once more.

****

When Nesta awoke from her nap, a quilted monstrosity that hadn’t been there before had been tucked around her. With a curse of frustration, she kicked at it, legs and arms flailing. “Ridiculous,” she hissed but there was no one in their room to hear her.

By the time she had reached the dining hall she was the last one there. At the moment it was just the four of them but they all took their usual places anyway. Cassian sat opposite her with watchful eyes as she lowered herself into her chair. Nesta ground her teeth. If she could make it through dinner without stabbing him with her fork, she would view it as a successful meal.

Mor was, as always, sat on Cassian’s left and her golden head was bowed as she told him some story. Nesta watched as that lazy, happy grin made an appearance and Cassian’s eyes gleamed. It had been years. So many years that Nesta couldn’t even count them anymore and whatever sting she had once felt when she had learnt about the history between Mor and Cassian, whatever bitter jealousy that tried to take root at their easy friendship had faded over time. Still, an occasional twinge made itself known to her and often at the moments Nesta would least expect. Like now.

Cassian threw his head back and roared with laughter, Mor matching him with equal vigour, her throat a long pale column of white. Nesta suddenly and inexplicably felt her fingers twitch around the fork she was gripping.

It was as though he could sense it which was a stupid thing to think as she _knew_ he could. Cassian’s hazel eyes slid from Mor’s face over to Nesta’s and the mirth dimmed from his eyes as the smile disappeared. There was something heavy resting in her stomach and she couldn’t bring herself to eat so she pushed the food around on her plate like she had done a few days ago when she first learnt there was a new expression Cassian could wear.

His throat cleared. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Nesta looked up to meet his eyes. “No.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes and the corners of his mouth turned down. Disappointment, maybe. Concern, possibly. She couldn’t place it. His eyes scanned her face.

“I have a stomach ache,” she told him by way of reassurance and also as a way to allow her to vacate the table as soon as possible. The image of his head rearing in fear when he had looked at her days ago compared to the comfortable lean of his head towards Mor now, danced in her mind.

Her words had meant to reassure but clearly, she had said the wrong thing. Cassian’s previously relaxed expression snapped taut. His eyes, hard as flint, quickly glanced down to her stomach and he stood, the abruptness of the action causing his body to collide slightly with the table and Elain reached out to steady a toppling glass.

“I’ll get you something.” He said it with his Commander’s voice, the voice that was deep and low and held a not-so-thinly contained threat against anyone that would argue with him.

Despite having woken from a nap before dinner, Nesta didn’t have any energy in her to argue and instead found herself speaking in a quiet voice, “I think I need to go to bed.” She thought that Cassian would argue with her but she was wrong. Frowning, he nodded and then Nesta watched as he schooled his features into a detached neutrality.

“I’ll walk you,” he said and Nesta felt her irritation bubble.

“No need,” she said as she stood. “I can go five minutes without being stalked.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow and she saw his jaw clench. She recognised that look, the one that said ‘ _fight me’_ but she raised an eyebrow in reply.

A calming voice from Cassian’s right drifted up to them both. “I think Nesta can walk to your bedroom unaided Cassian, but she’ll take some cordial with her to ease her stomach ache. Isn’t that right Nesta?”

She looked down at Elain’s sweet face and forced a smile upon her own when she met the eyes of the extremely exasperated looking Illyrian. “Yes,” she said, as calmly as she could muster, “of course.”

This seemed to appease Cassian a little and Nesta turned, stepping closer to where Mor was sat, who had been watching the exchange with a bored detachment. There was a sudden squeak and Nesta looked down to Mor who had sat up with interest, her eyes darting between where Nesta and Cassian stood.  

Nesta watched with confusion as Mor’s eyes glistened as she pressed her hand over her open mouth. “Oh! _Oh!_ ” Then a strange, unspoken conversation seemed to happen between Mor and Cassian which seemed to dampen Mor’s enthusiasm, her shoulders slumping slightly as she pouted.

Nesta had had enough. With what could only be pure jealously rearing its head, she kicked her chair backwards and stormed off, ignoring the call of her name that followed her from the room.

****

In the days and nights that followed her small tantrum, Cassian had seemed to tread with delicate steps. Each act that he performed appeared to be a calculated balance between cautious observation, passive stalking and fretting.

Nesta wanted to sob. For the first time in her life she couldn’t believe that she was looking forward to Feyre, Rhys and Azriel returning from the Summer Court where they had been negotiating some trade deal.

Her wanting to cry was also due to the fact that Mor had decided to join Cassian in becoming insufferable. Although the women had reached a solid and calm level of companionship over the years it was nothing like Mor’s relationship with Feyre and certainly nothing like Mor’s relationship with Cassian. Except it seemed like Mor was now putting excessive and unwanted levels of effort into bonding with Nesta.

She had been invited to afternoon strolls around Velaris, to dine with Mor for lunch at secluded lunchtime spots, to read in companionable silence in the library. Nesta had been trying to avoid them all. Especially as it seemed that Mor was carrying on with Cassian’s mild obsession with quilts.

“I’m not cold,” she had gritted out for the fifth time as she sat in the library.

“Let me just tuck the corners in anyway.”

There had been a crash from the book stacks as Cassian, never too far away, tried to navigate those stupidly large wings around the small space. Nesta put her head in her hands and shook her head in despair. There were only two things it could be. She was either dying or they were both suffering from extremely guilty consciences.

The worst thing about it all was that Cassian had stopped looking at her the way he used to. The frightened horse look had never quite left his face but it was joined by something new. There were so many moments that she caught him watching her and so many times when he had started to say something to her but then stopped and shook his head.

The lingering glances were plentiful but didn’t speak of mischief. His eyes would glance down to her breasts and hips but the desperate heat behind them had been replaced by something else. His fingers were delicate in their caresses and he danced feather light touches against her neck and cheek. Cassian would press his lips on her nape, his breath hot against her skin and Nesta would lean back into it craving his warmth.

It seemed that his fingers were aching to touch her just as much as she ached to be touched. But when Nesta turned to face him, her lips pressed fiercely against his, her hands drawing his towards her breasts he would murmur against her mouth and pull away. Cassian would cup her face in his large hands and kiss her nose. The affection was clear but Nesta remained confused.

To say she _wanted_ to sob was an understatement. There had been days where she felt that’s all she did. Nesta hid the tears well, letting them flow when she was alone in the bathroom and then soaking cloth in cold water to dab at her eyes. She felt that her sturdiness was leaving her somehow and that all of what was happening was causing her to lose herself. Tired, tearful and temperamental. That’s what she was.

Her feelings had overflowed from her one day as she walked with Elain in the garden, crying among the peaches and pinks of the flowers. Elain’s eyes were round and horrified as Nesta confessed all she had been feeling, all the strangeness that was making her believe she was losing her mind. They had taken another corner and there, hovering under a rose trellis, was a hulking body complete with leathers, red glaring syphons and a permanently worried look.

Nesta had wailed.

It was that afternoon that Nesta decided to visit Elain, to apologise for her out of character outburst. When she got there, she could hear the argument through the wall, the two people completely caught up in it that they didn’t even pick up on her footsteps.

“.... completely ridiculous now...” she heard Elain say.

“I know!” The frustration in Cassian’s voice was palpable but he softened it quickly. “I know, but she doesn’t know and I don’t know how to tell her.”

“Well she’s obviously not working it out on her own. You need to tell her.” Elain’s voice was uncharacteristically stern and left no room for argument. There was a pause before she also softened her voice back into its usual tone. “You can’t let this carry on for much longer, Cassian. Think of how upset she’ll be when she works it out and knows that we knew before she did.”

There was a long drawn out sigh and another murmuring of ‘ _I know.’_

Nesta swallowed down the lump in her throat and ignored the squirming in her gut, the one that told her something was happening. She tiptoed back to her and Cassian’s room wondering how it had all gone wrong.

****

During the night, she had done everything to sleep but couldn’t. Cassian lay next to her, snoring blissfully in his sleep, his warm arm slung over her middle and his hand gently pressing into her stomach. Nesta let out a shuddering sigh. His body was too hot and it was making her sweat. Beads of moisture had begun to trickle down her back where his naked skin pressed against her nightgown.

She shifted and managed to manoeuvre herself out of his grip. Cassian frowned and stretched out, reaching for her even as he dreamed. The silk of the nightgown clung to her damp skin and Nesta pulled it away from her body, wrinkling her nose.

If she was so inclined she would creep back onto the bed and press her lips against his forehead and kiss off the look of worry that he seemed to constantly wear these days. But she wasn’t so inclined even with his form, tanned and naked and delicious, stretched out on top of the sheets.

Normally, when she felt like she wanted nothing more to press herself against him and invite him into her body, she wouldn’t hesitate. But this wall growing between them, this pit of _something_ in her stomach wiped the urge away. Part of her, the old, mistrustful part of her that she thought had been buried long ago was wondering if it was because he was pressing that body against someone else.

Instead she opened a window to let the breeze in and sat in the chair away from the bed.

****

The thoughts whirling through her mind and the lack of sleep was making her feel sick. Nesta had dozed off in the chair and woke to the soft pink streaks of the sunrise reaching into the room. Not for the first time she felt nausea creep into her mouth and she felt her stomach churn.

Her appetite hadn’t been what it was and either she was not hungry at all, or like now, she was desperate to fill the void. Opposite her, Cassian was still sound asleep, the light dancing off his features making them appear softer.

Nesta’s heart fluttered. Despite it all she had never loved anyone the way she loved him. Part of her knew that she would never love anyone the way she loved him. She felt soft and so utterly breakable and Nesta wanted nothing more than for Cassian to wrap his arms around her and tell her how much he loved her.

With the expression on his face one of peace, Nesta decided to leave him in bed and she slung an ice blue robe around her nightgown before wandering down to the kitchen to get breakfast.

The light was golden when she reached the kitchen and when Nesta walked through the door she was surprised to see two quiet figures sat opposite each other at the table.

“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t know you were back.”

Rhys and Azriel turned, violet and hazel eyes looking at her with interest. Nesta supposed it was unusual to see her in the kitchen so early and without Cassian in tow. 

“We finished ahead of schedule,” Rhys explained, “so we come back late last night.”

“Where’s Feyre?”

“In bed.”

The way Rhys said it and the way his lips moved into a smirk told Nesta more than she wanted to know. She rolled her eyes and stepped closer to the table. “Well, I’m glad you’re all back,” she said and shocked herself for having meant it.

It seemed she didn’t only take herself by surprise from the way Rhys’ eyebrows shot up into his hair. She rolled her eyes again and opened her mouth but before she could speak she noticed the way the shadows had begun circling her body.

Azriel’s presence always unnerved her, even after all this time. Even though he was always a physically solid mass in the corner there was something about him that seemed to melt into the air. It always caught Nesta off guard when she remembered that he was there, speaking to the shadows and having them speak to him.

“Call them off,” she said, waving her hand through the swirls as they picked up in energy. One drifted around her stomach and if Nesta could have attributed an emotion to them she would say that they seemed excited.

“Of course,” and no sooner had he said it then the shadows parted and drifted back towards him to whisper in his ear.

Nesta clutched her robe tighter around her and slid into the chair next to his noticing how his eyes quickly glanced down her body before returning to his plate. From the corner of her eye she could see Azriel smiling a small cautious smile but one that seemed strangely warm.

Opposite her, Rhys chewed on a piece of bread and though he also wore a smile it was significantly less cautious. Nesta reached forward and grabbed a slice from the basket. “What?” she asked him. “Something in my hair?”

Rhys swallowed his mouthful and flashed her a wide grin that showed all his perfect, white teeth. Nesta supressed the urge to roll her eyes for a second time but shoved the bread into her mouth before she could say something sharp.

“How long?”

Nesta frowned. Rhys was leaning forward, still grinning like a clown, staring at her face intently. She shook her head not understanding but Rhys didn’t pick up on her confusion.

“Why didn’t you and Cassian say something before we went to the Summer Court? One of us would have stayed behind to take care of you.”

Nesta’s frown deepened and the bread in her mouth turned into a thick, chewy mass. Her mouth had dried up completely. _Callous bastard,_ she thought.

Nesta knew that Rhys had the capacity to be unkind but this, this _mockery_ of a smile he was throwing her way seemed to cut into her chest deeper than any knife. He knew. Whatever was going on in Cassian’s life, whatever secrets Cassian was keeping, Rhys knew. Of course, Rhys knew. And he was practically vibrating in his chair with delight.

Unlike with the others the ice between Nesta and Rhys had taken especially longer to thaw. It was primarily because of Nesta and Feyre’s history and because Rhys and Feyre were bonded it meant Rhys would destroy anything that could harm his mate. That had been Nesta once. But not now.

That’s why she felt the sting move deeper. She thought they were all past this, had thought that her and Rhys could live in peace just like the others. But he knew what Cassian was keeping from her and he wasn’t just pleased, he was _exhilarated._

Tears pricked at her eyes and Nesta managed to swallow the lump of bread down. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” and her voice was cold and brittle.

It was the subtlest of changes but she could see Rhys smile twitch downwards and the glint leave his eyes. When he spoke, he was slow and cautious as though he were talking a snake down from striking. “Of course, you don’t. But all things considered it’s best that we don’t leave you and Cassian alone. I’m pretty sure I can guess how he has been.”

“Maybe, considering how ‘he has been’ it would just be best if I moved out,” and her voice sounded faint as though it was travelling at some distance to get to her mouth.

Rhys’ mouth dropped open, “No! That’s the opposite of what we want! Feyre would _kill_ me if you both moved out now!”

“I don’t understand,” Nesta continued. “I just don’t understand...” and then it happened without warning. The sob; the wretched, pathetic sob that tore its way out of her mouth followed by hot, flowing tears.

She didn’t know what was worse, the fact that she was crying so openly or the fact that it was happening in the kitchen. In front of Azriel and Rhys.

“You don’t...” Rhys trailed off, seemingly more confused than before.

A hand, solid and scarred but gentle cupped round hers and gave it a squeeze. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Azriel shake his head at Rhys. It was barely a movement but she caught it and saw Rhys’ eyes widen in response.

“Oh shit,” he breathed. “You don’t actually know. _How_ do _you_ not even know?”

Before she could open her mouth to ask _what_ it was she was supposed to know there was a rapid shift to the air. Nesta knew what a tense body felt like with its muscles rigid and locked in place. She had never known until now that the air could copy that feeling.

“Get. Your. Hand. Off. My. Mate.”

They all turned to the source of the sound. It was like thunder, low and rumbling and it made the hair on Nesta’s arms stand up. If she didn’t intrinsically _know_ that she would never be harmed by him, she would be terrified out of her skin of the towering shape that dominated the doorway.

Cassian’s knuckles were stark white from where he was clenching his fists. Nesta wondered if there was a part of him that was warring with himself. A rational, jovial Cassian that looked at Azriel with the love of a brother must have been locked in there somehow with this _beast._ His body shook as though he was fighting every last bit of himself to not rush into the kitchen and tear out Azriel’s throat.

“Cassian,” Nesta murmured and his eyes snapped to her face. There was a softening in his eyes for a second but then he saw the watery look of hers and the tear stains on her face. Whatever force was compelling him to stay in the door collapsed and with a roar that shook the walls he launched himself towards Azriel beside her.

It happened too fast to register all the details. Nesta could feel more than see the blur of movement around her and she somehow felt like she had been caught up in a maelstrom. One with wings and tempers and gusts of pheromones.

A breeze fluttered her robe and her hair, the golden-brown strands flying about her face. She blinked and the males were gone, Rhys must have reached Cassian before he could reach Azriel but not before several plates and a sideboard had been broken in half. Azriel stood beside her panting.

“Excuse me,” he said before disappearing into the murky darkness of the kitchen corner.

Nesta stood up, her mouth hanging open. Bending down she picked up her plate from the floor and touched the two halves together with a little chink. A slice of ceramic was missing from the middle. She dumbly stared at it until she heard a gasp from behind her.

“What in the name of the Mother?”

Turning, Nesta saw Feyre surveying the damage with same open mouth expression she was sure was on her face.

“Cassian,” Nesta offered. “And Rhys. And Azriel. For some reason.”

Feyre’s blue-grey eyes scrutinised the kitchen and she muttered something about idiot males before looking over at Nesta. Nesta saw Feyre’s expression change in an instant, her sister’s eyes widening as she covered her mouth with her hands.

“Nesta,” Feyre whispered and Nesta could see Feyre’s eyes begin to water. But when she lowered her hands, Nesta could see that Feyre was smiling that same ridiculously exuberant smile that Rhys had worn. 

Nesta braced herself.

“Oh, Nesta!” Feyre launched herself over broken fragments of crockery and leapt over a chunk of wood that used to be furniture. Feyre’s arms wrapped around Nesta’s shoulders and Nesta was surprised to find herself leaning in, needing the comfort.

“Oh, Nesta!” Feyre exclaimed again but before Nesta could ask what was going on she received her answer. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant!”

****

She found them on the roof of the House of Wind. Feyre winnowed her up there as soon as she could. The two women watched them brawl for a while, Cassian versus Azriel and Rhys, fighting like a man possessed.

Nesta ground her teeth and clenched her fists. She was going to murder him.

“You,” she hissed and she felt fury swirl around her like a mist. “ _You did this_.”

Some still-functioning part of his brain must have clicked in and Cassian stopped, mid punch to Rhys’ face and turned to her. Rhys was lying on his back on the floor but managed a wave to Feyre while Azriel took the moment’s pause to wipe some blood from his mouth.

Some _stupid_ part of his brain must also have clicked in at her words as instead of looking scared or anxious, Cassian’s mouth stretched into a wide, open mouthed grin, the first she had seen from him in a while. _Yes,_ it seemed to say. _I did._  

The grin passed almost as soon as it arrived as he took in Nesta’s face. A noise of pure vexation screeched from her mouth and she turned and stormed down the stairs, not caring if he even tried to follow.

****

He followed. Of course, he did.

The breeze that came in through the window of their room was both gentle and cool and Nesta welcomed the feel of it against her neck, the slight chill bringing her temperature down. When they first entered the room, Cassian made to close the window but after she shot him a sharp glare he quickly retreated to the armchair next to the bed.

That’s where he sat now. Nesta opposite him on the bed itself. A long and terrible silence between them.

With a deep sigh Nesta met his eyes. If she had trouble reading him before then she definitely didn’t now. Nothing but pure panic was visible on his face but she didn’t know if it was because Cassian didn’t know how she was going to react or if that was just how he’d been feeling about the situation this whole time.

“How long have you known?” Her voice was quiet.

There was a pause and then Cassian let out a sigh of his own, his body releasing its tension as it seemed he was finally glad to be rid of the secret. “Since you came back from the Mortal Realms. I scented it on you.”

“And _everyone_ knows?”

 He hesitated, “Yes.”

“I can’t believe you told everyone.” There was a tremble to her voice and it dipped to a whisper, “I can’t believe I didn’t know.” Nesta looked away not bearing to see Cassian’s expression.

“No,” his voice was soft and low and his hands, so large and strong reached out and clasped hers. “I promise I didn’t tell anyone, they worked it out themselves.”

Cassian’s long, tanned fingers weaved into her pale ones. There was a tremor to both sets of hands which she tried to ignore. Cassian’s thumbs began to lightly trace against her skin and she felt tears prick at her eyes again. _Well,_ she thought, _at least I know what’s behind all the crying. Stupid hormones._

“But how did they know? How did I _not_ know?”

“Nes...” Cassian said gently and something in his tone made her look up. His eyes were warm and open, his face as tender as she had ever seen it. Something about his face was calm and relaxed and kind. If she could choose a face that he was wearing now she would say he was happy. He smiled at her. “I don’t know how you didn’t know, at first I thought you did.” He took a deep breath. “It’s obvious to me how the others knew. Nesta, you are _radiant_.”

A small sob came from her mouth and she extracted her hands from Cassian’s just so she could wipe her eyes. “When you realised I didn’t know, why didn’t you tell me?”

Cassian ran a hand through his hair and became fascinated at something in the corner.

Her next question was small as though part of her didn’t want to know the answer. “Is it because you don’t want it?”

He turned back in horror, his eyes wide and mouth wider. “What? No! I want it!”

He grabbed for her hands again and clutched them tighter this time, his frantic eyes searching her face. “Fae children are rare and you were cauldron made so I never thought... I didn’t even _consider_... Nesta, I want this to terrifying levels of want but it’s also _terrifying._ I thought you were hiding it from me from because _you_ didn’t want it and I was so scared of that, that I needed some time. Then I realised you _didn’t_ know and then I was trying to find ways to tell you and it got out of hand.”

“Yes, it did,” she snivelled. “I thought you were falling out of love with me.”

“Never,” he said emphatically. “Never.”

Cassian dropped her hands and moved to sit next to her on the bed, one arm wrapped around her body. Nesta sniffed and rested her head on his shoulder, her nose pressing against the skin of his throat. He felt just as he always had, smelt just as he always had but amongst the perfume of their bodies she could detect a new note, something that she hadn’t noticed before.

_Hello there,_ she thought.

“Do you want it?” Cassian’s voice was a murmur, so low and quiet that she wouldn’t have heard it if her ears weren’t so close to his mouth. She heard the fear and panic. The fear and panic that had been on his face all this time and that he was now able to vocalise.

It was natural to be anxious, this was a new life after all but Nesta realised that Cassian had been holding onto the fear of Nesta rejecting this new life. The scent of his fear was telling her that he didn’t know what to do if her answer was _no._

She sighed and pressed her nose deeper against his neck and inhaled. Hormones were now telling her to press her tongue against his flesh and taste him. Hormones were telling her to slip her hand into his and draw it to her breast, to kiss him until he made her breathless.

Nesta sighed again. _Hormones._ She pulled away and looked straight at him, at the crease of his forehead and the bob of his throat as he swallowed. Once more the look in Cassian’s eyes reminded her of that frightened horse she had seen long ago back when she was a human woman. But what the horse never realised was that the snake was just a frightened thing in the grass ready to glide away. The horse never knew it was never going to bite.  

Reaching out she took Cassian’s hand in hers but instead of bringing it to her breast like her hormones demanded she bought it down onto her stomach and pressed her hand over his. His fingers twitched with restrained joy.

“Yes,” she said and when she looked at him again she knew both their faces wore something new.


End file.
